Work Text:
“Still not sure what’s in it for you, but i’m not complaining,” Dust settled into the small mountain of pillows, naked as the day he was…born? Hatched? Aside from-
“Oh, I forgot your gloves. Here, give me your hands,” you reached out to him.
“Sure, just pop one off at the wrist,” he said cheekily.
You just ‘hmm’ed in response, gently taking one of his hands into your own. Each bone was traced through the fabric as his hands warmed in yours until you reached the edge of his gloves. Almost reverently you peeled it off, leaving a soft kiss on each knuckle as they were revealed. The both of you pretended not to notice the tremble in his hands as he wordlessly offered you the other, which received the same treatment.
“I, heh, i thought this was going to be a lot harder on me,” Dust looked to the side, not meeting your gaze.
You nibbled at a distal playfully, “I’m in no rush.”
Though admittedly, you were very excited for what you had planned. When Dust had originally suggested impact play as something he was interested in, you jumped at the chance to participate. However, while you were certainly going to give him what he wanted, you also had made plans to give him something that he didn’t expect, and perhaps, something that he needed.
He had rolled his eyelights at your insistence at using the soft, silky ribbon to bind him, but you thought the purple looked striking as you crossed it over his bones, weaving it through his ulna and radius. Plus, you suspected it would complement his magic beautifully.
By the time you had finished, Dust’s grin had gone crooked, magic gathering along his joints as he warmed up under your ministrations. The soft ribbon weaved around and through his arms, ending in a bow at his wrists, which you had delicately hooked above his head. His ribcage was left bare, save for an intricate weave along his bottom two true ribs which led down loosely to weave into the obturator foramen, a neat bow tied off in front of each frontal hole in his pelvic bone. He could sit up straight, but any more than that, say, from bowing backward, and both the bottom of his ribs and the front of his pelvis would receive a sharp pull from each other, the sensation no doubt going to be pleasantly unpleasant. His legs were tied much as his arms were, though instead of being tied to each other, each ankle was pulled up and leashed, much like his ribs, around the greater and lesser trochanter of his femurs, forcing him to stay bent at the knee.
“Everything comfy, nothing too tight?” you checked in as you pulled your ‘tool box’ closer, looking for something to start with. The feather thing was too soft, for sure. The paddle was out too, at least for now. You were supposed to hit him, not break a bone. Although, you thought worryingly, he probably wouldn’t mind if you did snap something. Dusts’ relationship with pain was a little warped, thanks to his high LoVe. Hence your slightly…alternative plans.
“Everything feels fine,” Dust confirmed, testing his range of motion, “now how about you get over here and fix that for me? wink.” He didn’t actually wink.
With some slight twirling and fanfare, you presented him with your first ‘weapon’ of the night: a wide, flat riding crop. Real leather and pleasantly springy.
“Remember your safe word?” you asked.
Dust grumbled, “ ‘s nebula. doubt i’ll need it though.”
“We’ll see!” You chirped cheerfully. And swung.
THWACK .
Not full strength, but enough that it took Dust by surprise. Soon his expression melted into one of relief…and confusion. Before he could dwell on it too long, you reached out and pressed your nails against his ribs, where he had taken the worst of the impact. The bone was warm under your fingers, and he shivered as you scraped at it.
“Too much?” you asked.
Dust glared at you balefully, “...”
A short silence, then Dust leaned back, “...harder.”
You obliged, the next two strikes coming down fast across his thigh, Dust’s breath hitching on impact. His eyelights were already fuzzing at the edges and, after a moment of hesitation, he let himself nuzzle into your hands as you cupped his cheeks.
“somethin’s wrong,” he said, a furrow in his brow, “‘s too warm . y’haven’t touched my hp. What-?”
He gentled as you pressed a soft, saccharine kiss to his mouth.
“You wanted me to hurt you. I am. I won’t damage you. I can’t.”
Dust pulled away, best he could, the fuzz in his lights trying to clear as he opened his mouth to argue.
WHAP! Right to the front of his pelvis, scattering the magic that had already begun to gather there. He groaned and arched, pitching into a whine as the ribbon caught and pulled his ribs.
“I can’t do any damage, because I love you,” you cooed, pinching his pubic symphysis and rubbing roughly.
Playtime start .
The crop left little patches of purpling bone, concentrations of magic trying to prevent or heal damage that wasn’t really happening. Sort of a skeleton equivalent of a bruise. Thumbing at the little welts left your skeleton shuddering, tugging at the ribbons to either move closer or shrink away. You weren’t sure which and it was hard to tell, as tightly wound (ha) as he was.
“You’re doing so well,” you praised, running the tip of the crop gently across his pelvis wings. The magic there swirled around it, trying to cling to the leather even as you left soft little taps to the darkening bone. He whined under the attention.
He whined more when you pulled away, looking at you with confused adoration.
His eyelights were fuzzy blurs of color inside his socket, so diffuse that the right one was almost purple as he made an inquisitive ‘chrrp’ sound you were pretty sure he didn’t mean to make, leaning towards you until his arms were pulled tight from the strain.
You waited. He huffed, but wouldn’t meet our gaze.
“...puh…please,” he said finally, his voice sounding loud in the quiet room.
“What do you need?” you smiled, leaning forward to gently pet his skull. He shivered.
A final flare of defiance sparked in his sockets, but you saw it coming, easily dodging his teeth as he snapped playfully at your fingers.
Your smile widened.
Love. Affection. Warmth. Softness.You focused on these, on your feelings for the skeleton tied up between your legs…and slapped him across the face in retaliation for the bite attempt.
“ghrk!” the sound wrenched itself from between Dusts’ clenched teeth as you quite literally hit him, full force, with your Intent.
Again, you waited. He shivered, gasping out an aborted breath that sounded painfully close to a sob. It wasn’t his safeword, but…he had gone awfully still.
Maybe you should call it, but after a long moment…
“again…please, more .” Dust shifted, and looked up at you in adoration, his face flushing lilac as he spoke. The tension usually coiled through his body had gone, leaving behind only soft edges and trembling bones as he tilted his head back, showing his neck to you, “fuck, please .” he whispered.
“Shhh,” you pet his skull in wide, sweeping strokes with one hand, reaching for the next part of the game with your other, “I’ve got you. I’ll give you what you need.”
He whined at the promise.
With a deep, steadying breath, you refocused your intent. Love, not LoVe, intertwined with the sweetest pain you could offer.
“I’m going to use the flogger now, Dust,” you scraped your nails over his throat and down his sternum, “It’ll feel different, but I’ll make it so, so good for you okay? You can always use your safeword to stop if you need to. Can you tell me your safeword again?”
Dust made a noise of complaint when you stopped your touches, but eventually slurred out “s’ nebula. don’ wanna st’p…keep goin’.”
“Good boy,” you said, and he lit up a little brighter under the praise.
The flogger was, as you had said, a little different. Opposed to the crop, which left hard, solid welts wherever you hit, the flogger left stripes , the braided leather strips hitting bone and wrapping around, almost two separate impacts, then a sharp tug on the bone as you pulled it off, each strand resisting against the bone slightly when you withdrew.
Three strikes in and there was a fourth snapping sound that hadn’t come from you. Wasn’t hard to find the source though. Dust’s magic had finally cooperated enough to form at his pelvis, his cock already slick and wet when it coalesced. Checking his expression for signs of discomfort, you ran your fingertips across the glossy magic and was rewarded with a soul-deep moan from your pretty little ‘captive’ as he tilted his pelvis into the touch.
“Aw, you’re so sweet, did you make that for me?” You took mercy on his pitiful, needy expression and licked a hot stripe up the underside.
His hands jerked against the ribbons as he instinctively tried to hold you there, but you only smiled, pumping him slowly as you continued giving little kitten licks to the head of his penis. Only when his cries hitched up in pitch did you stop, pulling away with one last swipe of your tongue.
“You’re being so good for me. Just a little more. Can you take a little more?” Dust nodded, voice lost somewhere in subspace, “ Such a good boy.”
The strikes came hard and fast (ha) after that, leaving stripes across his ribs, criss-crossing down his femurs and over his sternum, even one, carefully aimed, only the tips snapping at the wing of his pelvis.
“You mark up so pretty.” you pressed your fingers into the worst of the bruising. Hard to say if the responding moan was from the pain or from the praise.
“Almost done, you’re doing so well,” you settled into his lap, pressing your mouth to his. He opened easily, letting your tongue win dominance of the kiss as you ground against his cock.He bucked weakly against you, and you left another blort of precum smear against your thighs.
“Poor thing,” you cooed, lining yourself up. He was slick enough on his own, you met no resistance as you sunk down.
Using his ribs as leverage, you bounced on his dick, squeezing down intermittently to hear his breath hitch. Purple tears gathered in his sockets as you rode him, thanking you, begging you, twitching against his ribbons as you gave him exactly what he asked for. He had been so well behaved, after all.
“Good boy, Dust, such a good boy, just one more thing, you just need to do one more thing for me.”
Dust only whined, but it was close enough to an agreement you kept going.
“I want you to cum. Fill me up, tha-ah!”
He hadn’t needed any more prompting, hips canting up, his moan cracking as he came, thick hot magic spilling out of him and into you, overflowing to smear on your thighs as you rode him through it, stopping only when you were sure he had no more to give.
He whined brokenly as you lifted yourself off, his cock dismissing in a crackle of magic as he slumped against you.
The ribbon was easily done away with, leaving you with a trembling, clingy skeleton.
Dust was quiet for a moment before-
“ah, you didn’t…”
You almost laughed as clumsy, fumbling phalanges started groping at your opening, and you swatted him away easily, “Later. I’m not going anywhere. There will always be later.”
Dust regarded you, eyes still fuzzy and bright. Whatever he saw, he was satisfied with, since, with a groan, he slumped against you.
“you got a juice box? i wanna a juice box. none of that fruit punch shit either.”
You laughed. Of course you had a juice box. You knew just what he needed, after all.